


Messy hair, someone cares.

by 8BeautifulChaosGirl8



Series: Little Sister Sam AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Sam, Big Brother Dean, Fluff, Gen, John Winchester Tries, Little sister Sam, Mama Bear Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam's Hair, Weechesters, sam is a girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BeautifulChaosGirl8/pseuds/8BeautifulChaosGirl8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is perfectly content to let Sam look like a street urchin.<br/>Dean has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messy hair, someone cares.

Sam threw her hands up as she hurtled down the twisting slide. She reached the end and giggled, tumbling off the lip of the slide and onto the rubber matting below. Hordes of other kids swarmed around her but Dean didn’t take his eyes of her for a second.

His father sat nearby, discussing shapeshifters with a hunter contact, Anthony. They were at burger king, taking advantage of the cheap kids meals and free wifi. John had left Dean to watch Sam, saying they could both go on the playground for a bit. Dean smirked to himself. Those playgrounds were for babies, little kids like Sam. So he stayed at the table, tooling around with the toy car that had come with his food.

 

During a lull in the conversation, where John had turned away to look something up,  Anthony cast a look over to where Sam was playing. Dean looked up at him, caught something in his expression. Something sad. Something akin to pity.

“You keep letting your girl look like a wild thing, someone will think you’re neglecting her. Someone'll report you to CPS.”

John looked at Sam and smirked. “Yeah she is a bit scruffy isn’t she?”

 

Dean’s heart dropped. He looked back to his baby sister, spinning on the little carousel with some other kids. He suddenly sees how knotted her hair is, especially compared to the girl next to her who have two neat plaits. Unlike the boy next to her, Sammy’s shirt had grease and ketchup stains. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. Dean clenched his little car tight. He didn’t want someone taking his Sammy. Sure she was annoying sometimes but she was his baby sister. He couldn’t just let someone take her away. He was going to fix this.

\---

The next time they were at the store picking up food, Dean saw a hairbrush and some ponytail holders hanging on a display.

“Daddy, Sammy needs one of those.”

John looked down at Dean and then up at where he was pointing. He smiled.

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh. They will make her hair nice.”

John took a soft bristle brush from the display. “Which ones Sammy?” he asked holding two different packs of hair ties out. Sam squirmed from the child seat of the shopping cart, sucking her fingers.

“Should we have these ones?” John asked.

“No!”

John smirked. That was his little girl’s favourite word. “Well we better have these ones then.” He put the plain black ones in the cart alongside the brush.

 

“What else do we need Dean?”

“New clothes for Sammy. Her ones are dirty”

“We’ll pass a laundromat soon enough Dean. We can just wash them.”

“No!” Dean pouted “Sammy’s clothes are too small. Sammy needs girl clothes.”

John had just been dressing Sam in all of Dean’s old things, even the ones that said Daddy’s little man and stuff like that. It was just smart economically. He had no idea it even mattered to others what his daughter wore, much less his 7 year old.

“Which clothes are girl clothes, Dean?”

Dean dragged them over to the next aisle where a myriad of different clothes hung on racks. John swerved round to the clearance rack, taking from it whatever looked like it would fit Sam. At Dean’s protests he swapped the black tee with the tonka truck on it for a cheap dress and took the tinkerbell sneakers instead of the bob the builder gumboots, even though the gumboots were a little cheaper.

 

Dean insisted on wet wipes “for Sam’s face and fingers” before he was satisfied to end the shopping trip. As soon as they’re in the car and John’s got Sam strapped in, Dean fished them out of the bag and wipes Sam’s face. She squawks and tries to bat him away.

“No Sammy. You’re face is sticky”

Dean’s doing his best but he’s still little boy clumsy and Sam’s not the most patient 3 year old. Sam whines and begins to cry which always breaks Dean’s heart.

“Here, son. Let me.” John takes the wipe and quickly cleans Sam’s face, dabbing away her tears and cheering her up with a quick kiss to the forehead. He doesn’t mention that Sam’s just going to get dirty again, especially because they’re having spaghetti in sauce for dinner. The look of pride on Dean’s face made him smile and he didn’t want to ruin it.

That night, all three of them sat on the motel floor, Dean in front of Sam and John behind. Dean spoon fed Sam cut up spaghetti while John wet her hair, filled it with conditioner and slowly detangled it. He washed it out and brushed it til it was neat, Dean playing with her and reading her stories when the spaghetti was done.

====

“Dean, I’m going to be late!”

“If you don’t stay still I’m going to muck this up.”  
  
Sam sighed but stilled. Dean deftly braided the other half of her hair, twining strand over strand like the practiced pro he’d become.

 

“Dean it’s just school. No one care what I look like” Sam complained, echoing their father’s words from a day ago.

 

Dean’s heart sank. He remembered when his father did care, before the demon signs started to pick up and that became all he cared about. “Well I care. And when you grow up, you will too”

“I’m ten, that’s plenty grown up”

“Alright then Miss grown up, you’re all done” Dean said, quickly looping the hair tie round. “Go rush off to school, geek girl”  


Sam grabbed her lunch from the counter and rushed out the door. “Bye, jerk!” She called out.   
Dean scowled good naturedly, knowing she’d done that secure in the knowledge that if he called out “bye bitch” Mrs Hennessy from room 6 would come charging out and talk his ear off about seemly language. He settled for grinning and flipping her the bird, which made her laugh. He laughed too, watching her rush down the street with only slightly lopsided braids.


End file.
